Unorthodox
by Tak
Summary: A very different Lily comes to her 5th year at Hogwarts. Not a fairy tale. Not a Mary Sue.
1. Default Chapter

In the early 70s the Wizard World is not a very good place to be a mudblood. Oh yeah, I use that word. I prefer to be blunt and use the correct word. You would call me bigoted Slytherin if I came from a pureblood family. Most of the gryffindors would want to skin me if they heard me using that word. Well, I'm lucky nobody in my own house ever wanted to talk to me.  
Don't misunderstand me, I now people there. It stops there. I have acquaintances. That's all. I'm very comfortable this way. It's better if you don't have people too close to you. What they don't know can't hurt you. I'm not an outcast that hides in the shadows afraid people will notice me. I don't stutter when popular people like Potter talk to me. I don't back off when Malfoy or Snape insult me. I'm just not the very sociable.  
  
Blood. Nowadays it is very important. Well, it is very important if you have the wrong kind of blood. I'm not talking about blue blood versus the common red one. Not the old blood right. Not the color conflict. Not the racial conflict.  
I'm on the wrong side of the railway. I'm a mudblood. A witch bore in a muggle family. Not that you can call my mother, my sister and I a family. I pray to a god I don't believe we are not the standard British family. I would rather call old Voldie Daddy than kiss my mom.  
Oh yeah, I'm one of the few ones that call the Devil by the proper name, Voldemort. It's not like he could do anything against me. I'm in Hogwarts, the safest place in all the world. Albus Dumbledore is our headmaster. He is the only one Voldemort fears. There is nobody out here I care. In truth, there is nobody inside Hogwarts I care either. Well, I care about Dumbledore and Hagrid.  
Voldemort is our dear wannabe world-ruler. A very sympathetic lad. Snake eyes. Desire to slave everybody who isn't pureblood. A very good agenda if you ask me. You see. He thinks big. His death eaters have the same principle Hitler's Nazi youth had. You can't forget SS didn't recruit. All members were volunteers. To see his propaganda machine in action all you have to do is read Daily Prophet.  
I know Voldemort is winning this war. Nevertheless I'm with Dumbledore. It may sound odd that a survivor like me remains fighting a lost battle. He gave me a second chance. When he found me I was as good as dead. It was likely that I would be dead in a few years if he had not given me a second chance. Although I know the war is already lost, I believe that the dream of a man like him is worth dying for.  
  
Diary of a Mudblood Lily Evans. December 1973. 5th year. 


	2. Broom Closet

Boys learnt to stay away from me earlier on my first year. A third year Slytherin thought I was a little naïve Gryffindork that must be taught the facts of life. It's almost funny when I stop to think about it. I can bet you that at that time I knew more about the facts of life than him, and not just the theory. At seven I learnt a very important lesson, never let your guard down, never. When he came to talk to me in my second day at Hogwarts I knew he was up to no good. As any young slytherin he thought he was devil incarnate. He was utterly wrong, I am. He threw me in a broom closet. When I got out there 3 minutes later I was fixing my clothes. The look the prefect in charge of showing the castle to us gave me was priceless. He thought I was a little slut, which was making out in a broom closet at the tender age of eleven. He reconsidered his judgment when he heard cries of pain coming from the closet. A broken arm, 2 broken ankles, a broken wrist, a black eye and a smashed ball. Of course he hadn't told this to anybody. What would people say about a 13 year old slytherin that was beaten shitless by a first year gryffindor, a girl, for god's sake; and worse, a mudblood. Normally the injuries I gave him would demand months to be fixed. In Hogwarts we have the Pomfrey factor. Madam Pomfrey can fix almost anything. So, the prefect, frank Longbottom, had to levitate him to the Infirmary Ward.  
  
"God, what happened to him?"  
  
"He fell from the stairs, he was running." I cut whatever Frank was thinking to say. He gave me a funny look. I told him I would explain later.  
  
"Enough, Put him on a bed."  
  
"OK."  
  
We got out of there. At the corridor Frank demanded a explanation.  
  
"Well, you see, I don't want detentions, or points taken from Gryffindor. I know the professors won't understand."  
  
"They will, I was there, we can tell them."  
  
"They won't understand frank." The truth is that they would never trust my word. Hell, I wouldn't trust my word if I were them. Not with my past.  
  
He gave up. I made him promises that he would never tell what happened to anybody. Frank is not very good at keeping secrets. By lunch everybody knew what I had done. In the end, my little broom closet adventure was not so bad. Most of the slytherins avoided me. James Potter and his gang never pulled a prank on me. They knew I didn't play on their level. They pulled pranks. They humiliated the slytherins. The snakes looked for revenge, and life was going on. Neither side dared to involve me on their childish games.  
  
Unfortunately good things don't last. I was the outcast, but I was happy this way. The only people that talked to me was my school projects partners, the ones I was forced to tutor in charms, my best subject, and the Professors. Of course, I haven't forgotten Hagrid. You don't just forget someone that saved your life. I use to visit him on a regular basis. The big problem is that I was made a prefect. What the hell is going on Albus Dumbledore's head to make someone like me a prefect? Better, what the hell is going on Dumbledore's head to make someone like me, and someone like Remus Lupin prefects?  
  
Come on, the boy is gentle, has good marks, is sensible, etc. But he is a fucking werewolf. I know what I was, what I did to live for almost 3 years. I'm not ashamed of it. Just don't like to remember.  
  
God, Dumbledore is asking Wednesday Adams to be a prefect. What come next, inviting Voldemort to teach DADA? On second thought that would be very interesting.  
  
Back to the problem: Wednesday Adams as a prefect. It's not so bad, patrol the corridors after curfew and take care of the first years. Help children with their homework, etc. Not so bad at all.  
  
It's just that there are a lot of things going on. Apparently everybody chose this great and glorious year to forget what I did to Frederick Nott on my first year. I heard that even after so many years he ever walks funny. Hope he is the last one in his lineage and doesn't have any brothers or sisters; no more Notts would be good for the World.  
  
This year my school letter was different. It demanded a dress robe for this year. Apparently the professors thought that a ball was a rather good way to cheer up the school. Great, I had to spend 5 galleons on a dress robe I will only wear one time. They didn't have anything cheaper. Oh yeah, I have my own money. Work on summer. While the good guys go to France, Spain, or wherever their purses let them go I work on summer. It's not that bad. I work at Zonko's. It's family business, but the owner let me work there so his daughter can relax on summer.  
  
It's hot. I am too damm tired on the end of the day to do anything. I like it. Oh, I'm not masochist. Zonko's storage at summer is much better than to stay with my mother. God knows I could not recriminate Petunia when she fled. At least I work on the storage. Nobody knows I live there on summers. What they don't know can't hurt me.  
  
When I stop to think, I realize I'm lucky. I'm almost a happy person. Don't know what is missing. 


	3. No more tears

When a gray owl delivers you a letter it is time to cry. Death Eaters have killed someone on your family. Most likely all of them are dead.  
  
I saw many people receiving the fatidic letters. They are more popular on Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hupplepuff. If you were a mudblood you had higher chances. I can remember clearly when a little first year received a letter. He was in shock. He was also by my side. He hugged me. I didn't know what to do, so I hugged him back and carried him to infirmary. Madam Pomfrey gave him a dreamless sleep potion. I was sad for the boy. It was the first time after I came to Hogwarts that I was really sad.  
  
Right now I have a letter delivered by a gray owl. It's for me. Why does the idiotic ministry don't see that breakfast, when everybody is watching you is really not the best time to deliver somebody a letter saying there was a dead in family? This is beyond me.  
  
Dear Ms. Evans.  
  
Your mother was found dead yesterday, 9/18, at her house. Death eaters killed her. We are sorry for your loss.  
  
Susan Bones  
Ministry of Magic  
  
They say it as if they are really sorry. Well, the incredible thing is that it's probable that the ones that found her are sadder than me. I really don't miss her. Haven't missed for a little more than 5 years. I don't even want to cry. No tears, she made me use all them when I lived with her.  
  
Everybody is staring at me, they pity me, they expect me to run away crying, or to break down sobbing. I tug the letter on my backpack and resume my breakfast. They are flabbergasted. Don't know what to think.  
  
Professor Mcgonagall get up from he seat and come to me.  
  
"Do you want help to pack, dear?"  
  
"No, I don't want to go to the burial Professor."  
  
"I know you are sad and depressed, but going to the burial will help you deal with the pain dear."  
  
"I know, professor, but there is no pain. I'm not sad. She is not worth crying for madam."  
  
"Ok." I daresay, for once, Minerva Mcgonagall didn't know what to say.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak to you before your first class. The password for his office is Lemon Drop.  
  
"Did you want t see me sir?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Evans, indeed I wanted to see you. Sit down, please."  
  
So I did.  
  
"I believe you received a ministry letter this morning."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
" Professor McGonagall told me you don't want to go to the burial. Is that correct?"  
  
"Yes, it is sir."  
  
"May I ask you why not?"  
  
"I just don't see the point sir. It's not like I am really grieving. I just don't fell anything. I won't miss her."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes sir. I'm quite sure."  
  
"All right, you may go now."  
  
"Thanks for caring sir." I got up and he nodded.  
  
Nothing new happened on classes. Well, nothing but Saint Potter, Mr. All- Star-Quidditch wanted to make me feel better. Rather pathetic. Why someone like Potter want to bond with me of all people I really don't understand. I would rather bond with Snape than with myself.  
  
God, can my day be any worse?  
  
Yeah, I think so. It can. Of course that was a rhetorical question. I decided I don't believe in God, or any kind of deity. If I believed I would be sure my mother would be having the best vacation money can afford. Somewhere hot, extra hot, with bonfires everywhere. Well, I don't believe, so I think she just vanished. Better than the peaceful place she deserved. Much better than the place I deserve.  
  
Don't begin talking about ghosts, soul, etc. I'm not there yet. You see I'm quite new at this religious prophet thing.  
On second thought mom would be extra-crisp by now. This believer thing may not be so bad as I thought.  
  
Better stop thinking pleasant things right now, Malfoy may get the wrong idea that my goofy face is product his proximity.  
  
I don't know. I just don't know. Right now, I'm very comfortable don't knowing if God exists or not. I believe God doesn't exist. Have no proof. All I know is that God doesn't believe in me. He has his reasons.  
  
Some days just suck. Accept it and you won't have an ulcer before you are 30. My philosophy is 'don't take things for granted, keep your expectative low.' A wise man said one 'All unhappiness mankind has comes from hope'. Albert Camus. I agree with him. 


End file.
